Keep on Truckin'
by VioletFauxpa
Summary: In this world nothing is certain. Sometimes you just gotta grab the bull by the horns and see where you end up, lest you risk losing everything that matters. CoachxEllis


- Let's dive right in, shall we? -

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><p>Eyes looking down, fixated. The beans were still warm, but had already congealed and started to crack up. There were three portions missing, and just one left. It was enough, but Lord, it wasn't what those weary eyes had been hoping to see. Just once more he wanted to see a steaming hunk of meat in the middle of a table, surrounded by all the fix-ins. It didn't have to be Thanksgiving, but how he was imagining it, it wouldn't be much different. Just once more, then he could carry on, day after day, with one less feeling of loss being carried around in his heart.<p>

Still they were in Louisiana, have been ever since they chased the dream of salvation all the way into the ground. They found the military, and even convinced some flying a chopper to carry them out of the infected abyss that was New Orleans. They had found their escape it seemed, or at least until they were ordered off and abandoned at some other location several miles shy of Dead End, Louisiana. They managed to make it all the way from Savannah to New Orleans, the latter of which was literally being 'cleansed' all around them, just to be shunned by those they had been searching for. They were still alive, though, and small miracles like that were all they had to hold on to.

They found a house on the side of a road, at least a mile from congested neighborhoods and filthy streets filled with overturned cars and the dead just waiting to come out and tear them to shreds. It looked comfortable, defensible, safe. When they got to the front, they noticed the door hanging open, and the screen door torn outward from its hinges and resting on the front porch. They approached cautiously, but deep inside they already knew the story here. Nick stepped over the screen door and headed inside the dark building, pistol and flashlight pointed in front. Coach followed close behind, the two of them splitting up to investigate deeper into the house, while Rochelle called to whatever might be hiding behind the corners. Ellis guarded the back, keeping his eyes on alert. He was past the point of being skittish, so when he saw a squirrel scamper in his peripheral he didn't even bat an eyelash. Even when he was face to face with the dead his heart would barely begin to beat faster. They had all been bitten, and scratched, and clawed more times than they dare remember. With the fear of being infected out of their minds, there was a lot more they had time to think about, like finding a safe place to squat for the rapidly encroaching night.

And that's where they were now, barricaded inside a quaint, little shack, with all the windows and doors secured, and a few tea candles lit in order to give a dim light. Ellis had just enough light to see into the pot of baked beans. How long had he been staring into it before he realized what he was doing? He shook the thoughts out of his head and grabbed the spoon that was resting in the pot. It was hot, but pleasantly so. He stirred the crusting beans around, trying to moisten them up with what juices might be left.

"Beans, beans..." Ellis chimed softly to himself, though his furrowed brow and curled lips told the truth. "Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but... phew... I'd rather eat a bowl uh asparagus." Again, he talked only to himself.

Nick and Rochelle had already turned in. The little house had one bedroom, and tonight it was Nick's turn to sleep on a mattress. It was out of the 'kindness' in his heart that he allowed Rochelle to share it. Or, at least, that's how Coach put it. Coach was taking his turn in the bathroom while Ellis debated on eating the rest of the beans. The big guy took his time cleaning up. They found several gallons of water in the pantry, and each took one to clean what they could off their battered bodies. Coach sat on the edge of the tub with a wet rag on his bad knee. He might have been immune to the infection, but his old injury was still sticking around, and damn, if it didn't ache like hell. He was certain that his bones were grinding against each other, no cartilage left to keep them apart.

Had he known the world was going to end, he would have taken a bottle of his pain medication to work with him. "Woulda run out eventually," he says to himself. He could have robbed a pharmacy, and he'd still run out at some point. "A hindrance..." He huffs as he removes the rag and massages his knee. "I'm close to being nothing but a hindrance." He tried to stand up, but the pain shot him right back down. It always got worse when he settled down. When the time came, when his knee decided it wasn't going to support one more go on the field, he'd deal with it himself. Until then, though, the name of the game was Grin and Bear it. He couldn't let those three see the pain in his face, because he knew they would only worry that much more. Was he being pessimistic, or merely realistic? He wasn't entirely sure, but it didn't matter. He'd open that bathroom door and smile to whoever might be there. He'd take a load off in one of those kitchen chairs and keep an eye on the barricades. He'd keep watch and rest up, and tomorrow he'd be good as new. First, though, he needed to stand up.

Ellis ate a spoonful of the charred beans, then resumed a chore that he'd been neglecting for an hour. Since they found water, and enough of it to justify using some as cleaning water for their clothes, Ellis took it upon himself to clean the pieces of clothing that needed it most, underthings and shirts. He could still hear Rochelle debate with herself over whether she should do her own, or decide that she didn't give a rat's ass and let him go for it. She ended up cleaning her own panties and bra, as well as her socks and shirt, but the guys left it up to Ellis. He had noticed on the way in a small sheet of corrugated metal that had minimal rust and snags that might further destroy their shirts and delicates. Back at home they had an old-fashioned washboard hanging up on the wall above the washing machine, so he knew it would work.

The sink was blocked and a gallon of water was used to fill it. There was plenty more, but waste not want not. The previous owner was nice enough to leave behind a half-used bottle of handsoap, and this is what Ellis used. He had already finished Nick's and Coach's, but he still had to do his own shirt and underwear. He hurried with his briefs, wanting to finish before Coach came out and saw him. Not that it was weird, after all he just washed both Nick's and Coach's shorts, he just felt feminine washing the delicates.

They were lucky to find a closet full of clothes in the bedroom. They were a little musty, but clean, and definitely good enough to wear for, at least, one night. The wardrobe was fit for one person, the sole resident of the house. And that resident was anything but tiny. All the shirts had three x's, and the pants were a lost cause. Luckily there were a few pairs of sweatpants and an odd pair of those silky sport shorts that had drawstrings. Rochelle ended up wearing nothing but one of the over-sized shirts, as it was being nothing other than a dress on her. Ellis and Nick decided to go without shirts, as it had been proving to be a sweltering night ahead of them. Wearing sweatpants would be warm enough. There was no need to overdress just to roam around in the dark. Coach, being the biggest of the four, didn't have as much trouble fitting into a shirt, and he knew he needed those shorts so that he could tend to his knee.

As he cleaned his shirt, Ellis thought about the others. They'd been so busy rushing to New Orleans they never even thought of things like changing clothes. Now that they did, Ellis could see some new features on them. Rochelle with her shoes off seemed so much smaller. Even though they were flat, the bit of sole they had lifted her high enough to seem just average. Nick was a little pudgy, and just as hairy. Ellis tried to map out just how hairy, but he knew Nick was watching him. He expected to hear him say something crass, something to the affect of "Take a picture," but every time Nick caught him, he'd just glance down, then away. And Coach, his arms were big, but his legs were bigger. The man was a beast compared to them, and Ellis could only imagine what he had been like on the field. Big arms, big legs, even his hands and feet were big. Ellis looked at his hands. They were smaller for sure. He wasn't sure why, but he liked how things were. He liked his hands the way they were, and he liked Coach's the same.

As Ellis reached up one last time to hang his shirt over the makeshift clothesline he heard the bathroom door creak open, and Coach shuffle out. He didn't speak, but turned from the sink to watch the older man walk past, heading towards his post. It was dim, but even still he could see Coach hobble a little. Ellis squinted his eyes as he examined his stride. Strained, uneasy.

"Coach?" Ellis spoke up, his voice clearly catching the large man off guard.

"Ellis? Still doing those clothes?" He acted nonchalant, straightening his posture and burying the pain in his knee under an easy going facade.

"Just finished..." Ellis began to walk towards the taller man, his eyes focused on the point of interest. "Are you hurt, Coach?"

"Don't worry your head, Youngin'." Coach looked away and headed towards his chair. "Just an old war scar."

"War scar?"

"Kiddin', Boy. Hurt my knee back when I played ball. Nuthin' to fuss over." He sat down slowly, groaning softly as he bent his knee. "Just hurts when we stop from runnin' 'round all day." Coach lied. His knee hurt all the time, but he'd never tell. His knee will have to give out before any of them knows the truth. He hated to leave them in that position, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. "We all got war scars here, 'cuz that's what this is. War."

Ellis followed Coach, standing beside him as he sat. Coach talked the talk, and, God love 'em, he walked the walk, too. Ellis knew he wasn't one accustomed to bellyaching. He knew men like him, men that would work themselves til they near 'bout fell dead on the floor before they admitted any weakness. This was a different world now, though. He could let Coach brush over the truth, feed him denial like it were laced with a teaspoon of sugar. But, as Coach said, this was war, the existence they now had, and war never did give any mercy.

Without a word, Ellis returned to the kitchen and removed the pot of beans from the burner, and added a new one, to which he added some more water. After a few minutes the water heated up, not to a boil, but enough so that steam was rising, and those little heat bubble were beginning to form on the bottom. He grabbed a washcloth and carried the pot of water over to Coach, setting it down just next to his feet.

"Coach," Ellis began as he knelt down before Coach, as if he were a king on his throne.

"B... Boy, what is this? I told you, now..." Coach had dozed off in Ellis' absence, so when he heard the pot tap against the floor he was jarred awake.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Coach. We're all here for each other, right? Well..." Ellis put his hands around one of Coach's tired, swollen ankles and pulled. "I know what I'm doin'. My papaw had a bad knee, and Momma used to do this for 'em all the time."

"Oh, Ellis. Come on, now." Coach kept his leg where it was, although the tension from Ellis' pulling made his knee flare up. "It's nuthin' a little R&R wont fix. You've done your fair share today. I'm not gonna sit here givin' you somethin' else to do."

Coach's complaints were on deaf ears, though, as Ellis pulled again at his ankle. This time he let Ellis guide his foot up, gentle and slow. He grunted at the pain, the throbbing in his knee that had been there coming back full force. When his leg was bent it was hard to get it straight again, but Ellis helped him push through it. Coach looked down at the young man, a kid compared to him. He had both his hands on his leg, one clutching his ankle, and the other resting on his thigh as he eased the leg straight.

Once the leg was stretched out, Ellis propped the ankle on his shoulder, and let that hand hold onto Coach's shin while he reached for the pot of hot water. He dipped the washcloth into the water and squeezed his hand into a fist, ridding the fabric of the excess water. The water made dripping sounds that, for reasons unknown to them both, were unmistakeably soothing. Softly Ellis placed the hot rag on Coach's knee, rousing a hiss of approval out of the larger man. Ellis left the cloth be to warm up the trouble area. "Cold water was nice, but nothing worked through a body's tensions like a warm, wet towel," as his mother used to say. The words echoed through his mind as he rubbed Coach's leg. His mother, his mom, how he missed her. He stared at the chair between Coach's legs for a moment as he remembered. His hands went through the motions, his left rubbing the shin and ankle, while the right worked on the thigh. The right had it's work cut out for it. Coach's thigh was anything but petite, and a single hand couldn't hope to do what was needed. As he moved both hands onto the thigh he looked up at Coach. He had his eyes closed and his head hanging back. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, his cheeks bulging with air.

"Coach?" Ellis piped. He pulled the washcloth from Coach's knee and dipped it back in the water. "Who all did you... leave behind?" Ellis watched the cloth now as he clenched it, bringing the calming water sounds back.

"Leave behind?" Coach looked down at him, his eyebrows bunching together.

"You know... Who'd you lose?" Ellis placed the rag back on Coach's knee, feeling the muscles in the thick leg tighten then relax.

"I'm sorry to say it, but no one." Coach ran a hand across his head, sighing as he was forced to delve back in time. "My mother and father were already dead, died years ago. No wife, no kids. I 'spect I was the best person to live through something like this."

"No one?" Ellis pried, his hands massaging upward on the thigh. He could feel Coach flex a little the higher he went, and had to keep a mind of where his hands went.

"I mean, I lost all my boys. Those poor kids. Luckily we were evacuated before anything happened there, so I didn't have to see them..." Coach stopped and just watched Ellis' hands move over his skin. "I had a girlfriend for a while, imagine the same fate came to her, too."

"Had? What, she leave you for another football star?" Ellis joked, his hands tightening their grip as he laughed.

"No way! Coach had no competition there. It's just, I caught her cheating on me." He grew silent again, his eyes meeting Ellis' as the boy looked up. "Cheating on me with my checkbook! Girl had it in her mind my money was her money. After all, she was too young for me, too pretty. Hair blonde as buckwheat and eyes blue as the ocean. What was a old fool like me thinkin' I was gonna get? Shoot, not marriage." Coach had a twinge of bitterness mixed with his voice, the memory a hard one to recall. But, within seconds his face grew soft, sorrowful. "I hope she made it out. Or, at least, she wasn't too scared."

The room was silent after that. Ellis massaged harder and then took the washcloth off of the knee once it was thoroughly loosened. He began to move his thumbs in circles on either side of Coach's knee. He felt Coach tense up, and listened to the worried huffs that escaped his mouth. It's a funny thing, the end of the world. Old traumas seem so insignificant when everyone is dead, or rather semi-dead.

"I used to watch my momma rub on my papaw's knee. Heh, only he didn't get it from playing football." Ellis spoke, his voice a nice chance from the painful silence. "His wife, my mamaw, well she thought he was a burglar one night. He came stumbling into the house, way past midnight, and man, was he drunk as a skunk. She hid in the kitchen, and when he came in she grabbed a chair and slammed it right into his knee. Hell, he had to get his knee replaced. One of them fancy metal ones. Only it would get real tight, and whenever he was over he'd get momma to rub his leg. This is how she used to do it."

"It's... real nice, Elle."

"Now, this might hurt a bit, but momma said you need to pull on the knee a bit, release the pressure." Ellis prepared Coach as he placed his fingers around his kneecap, a corner of his mouth creeping up after hearing how his name was said. "Here we go..."

"Damn," Coach cussed at the pain in his knee. He gripped the seat of the chair and lifted himself slightly. "That absolutely necessary, Youngin'?"

"Ssshhh..." Ellis held the kneecap, pulling it up ever so slightly to aid in relieving the pressure.

When Ellis let go and returned to rubbing his thumbs on the sides of the knee Coach let out a sigh of relief. To his astonishment the pain in his knee, although there, was lessened. He smiled a bit as he looked down at Ellis.

"That's nice." Coach relaxed again, melting into Ellis' touch. "You feel like tellin' me... who you lost?"

"Uh..." Ellis' fingers stopped moving for a second, but as a sad smile crossed his face they continued. "Well, there is momma. She's the one that called me at the shop, told me what was going on. Not for her warning I mighta stayed at work til the end came crashing in through the front doors." Ellis began to kneed Coach's calf, feeling it had been neglected. "Told she was at home with mamaw. Course home for us was a trailer just big enough for the two uh us. Said they were safe, but lookin' back, I figure she just said that."

"..." Coach listened quietly. His heart was heavy, full of sadness for the kid. How he wished he could make it better.

"Papaw died last year. Cancer got 'em, died with us having no clue he was sick. So, at least he didn't have to see all this, though he woulda wanted to be there for momma and mamaw. I hate that they were alone." Ellis looked at the floor and coughed. "My daddy and older brother were both in jail. I reckon they were released when it became hopeless, I pray they were. Nick got out, so they coulda got out too, right?" Ellis looked up into Coach's eyes, but didn't expect a response. "They were in the same prison, so they surely woulda found each other."

"Of course they did, Son."

"I wasn't dating anyone, though. So that's one good thing." Ellis stayed quiet after that, rubbing Coach's leg softly, more out of habit than anything else.

"Well, what about Keith?" Coach questioned, remembering the name from Ellis' countless stories on the road. "You talked our ears off the whole way here about that boy."

"Keith." Ellis said the name to himself, as if he needed to in order to remember. "Sorry I talked so much. Momma said I had a bad case of the nervous jitters, only instead of twiddling my thumbs I talk til I make your ears wanna bleed."

"Don't let it get to ya, we like it." Coach leaned forward to pat Ellis on the shoulder. "I like it."

"..." Ellis just smiled as he looked into Coach's eyes. "Keith was my best friend. That guy there, he'd tell me stories even _I_ wouldn't believe. We'd go fishin' together. We'd get drunk off our asses! One time he played this prank on me..." Ellis let his hands circle around Coach's ankle as he felt the words fleet from his mind. "Christ. I remember growing up together like it was nuthin'. One day I heard mamaw talkin' to momma, sayin' how things is changed. How back in the day we'd never uh found each other. How she was happy to see things start over."

"Wait, was he... black?" Coach spoke up, surprised.

"As night, he was. He'd always run off in the dark and sneak up behind me, cuz he knew I wouldn't see 'em comin'. Keith." Ellis remembered his hands and started to rub again. "Might sound selfish, but I wish he was here with me. I know he's at peace now, somethin' we could only wish for, but... You woulda liked 'em."

"I'm sure I would have."

"And he would have loved to have met Ro. He always had a way of talkin' to girls that I never had. Maybe if he were here she wouldn't look so sad all the time." He started to rub the sides of Coach's knee again. "No, I'm happy he's free. He always was a shitty shot. Couldn't shoot a bird if it was sitting there washin' up on a birdbath! This would be too much for 'em."

The two sat silent again. The talk of the past was hard to hear. Coach's heart was still full of sorrow, all of it being for Ellis. He really was fortunate. Despite his knee, he was blessed to have had minimal loss. Ellis had it rough. How he could only imagine the way he felt that he wasn't showing. And, even with all his pain, he still had the thought to worry about Rochelle. She was sad, he'd noticed it ever since they met those three on the bridge back in Georgia. Ellis had picked up on that, same as he did. She had a life she lost, too. Nick, he wasn't as worried for. The two of them were similar; No life worth mourning for. This might have been the end of the world for all of them, but for Ellis and Rochelle, it must have been worse than hell.

"He was tall like you, Keith was." Ellis said after a time. He kept his eyes on Coach's leg as he spoke. "Tall and nice, and never would let you know when he was hurtin'. I guess he is here with me, in a way. He just goes by a diff'rent name now. Might be playin' pretend, but hell, pretend's funner than real life, I think." He laughed softly, knowing what Coach must be thinking. "I know, it's crazy."

"We all have our parts to play now, and if being Keith from time to time is uh part uh mine, well then, I s'pose that's the way it is." Coach didn't taunt Ellis, or blast him for being so upfront with what he was feeling. Truth was, he liked it. He wasn't sure about pretending to be Keith, or whatever that agreement was, but it didn't really matter. "I'm just happy to have heard some about you, for once. All I've heard 'bout Keith, I've had to catch myself trying not to confuse your name with his!"

Ellis chuckled at the thought, his name being Keith. For the first time in what felt like an eternity he could feel his muscles truly relax. For that moment, he was at home, there with Coach, laughing through the pain. His hands continued to rub Coach's leg, pressing into the fat and muscle of his thigh. As he continued to smile, high from the unadulterated bliss of new-found belonging, he didn't notice his hands drifting up still. His fingertips sneaked under the leg of the silky short, barely at first, then a little more. His eyes drifted to the side as he remembered Keith. The good times. He thought how it was nice to have those memories, but that it was up to him to make new ones with someone new.

Coach sat silent as he enjoyed the continued attention. He let his eyes stare at the ceiling as he began to forge new memories. Ellis reminded him so much of his boys. Young, eager to have an adventure. He was, of course, older. That didn't matter, though. He closed his eyes as he remembered them tossing around the ball and practicing plays. Coach rubbed his thumb against his index finger as he recalled his whistle, how he'd hold in between his two fingers and blow. Nothing was more exciting than seeing them play a game, and whip the other team. He'd always push them hard, but they knew he cared about them. At least, he hoped they did. Ellis, he was like them, and that's partially why he was so fond of the kid.

As he began to feel himself slip off again, embraced with thoughts of comfort, something itched at his mind. It was hard to come back on his own, the need to sleep strong in his exhausted body, but bit by bit he did. He tried to find out what was off without opening his eyes. His hearing came back first, but nothing was out of the ordinary there, and it wasn't until he became a bit more lucid that he felt hands rubbing higher on his leg than he remembered them being. He could feel Ellis rubbing clear up his hip now, with a few stray swipes rubbing against his, too-inner, thigh.

"Ellis?" Coach's voice was shaky, unsettled.

"Coach, I've been thinkin'..." Ellis let his right hand continue. With an ounce of modesty left, he pulled it out from beneath Coach's shorts, but only to let it rest gently on the older man's crotch.

"E... Ellis. Look, boy." Coach took his leg from Ellis' shoulder, ignoring the pain as he put his foot on the floor. "I'm not too swift, but... if you're thinkin'..." Coach puts his hand on Ellis' chest and pushes him back a bit. "This isn't what you want, Ellis. We're friends, Youngin', just like you and Keith. I'm not one to judge, I would never, but this..."

"There's no one left, Coach. Sure there's the military, but we good as dead to them. All we have is us." Ellis held his position, his hand no longer on Coach's crotch, but now resting on the man's thigh again.

"There are people, just like us, like them people we met back in Georgia. People that are immune. You don't need to give up on that, none of us do." Coach tried to stand up, but the pain in his knee had just started to die down. Ellis had, after all, done the trick.

"Give up? That's uh lotta shit, Coach. What about this is giving up?" Ellis looked up at the bewildered Coach. "Can't be sure of anything nowadays. All I know is what I see, here and now. And right now, that's you and me, in this house, blocked away from those dead fuckers. You might be willin' to live on a dream, but how I see it, that ain't a luxury any of us can afford."

"Ellis, this won't work..."

"I might not be what you hoped to find along the way, but here I am. And, here you are." Ellis let his hand rub back up Coach's thigh.

"Ellis," Coach was surprised by the sudden change of tone given off by Ellis. He was serious, determined. If it were for another reason other than to get in his pants he might have been impressed, but at that moment it felt like he was only doing it to be cruel. "Please, man."

Deep inside, Coach knew what Ellis said was true. Sure they'd seen people, but nothing counted until it was in their immediate vicinity. Had he wanted things to turn out this way, him getting propositioned by his, for all intensive purposes, best friend? Honestly, the thought never even crossed his mind, so it wasn't something he had prepared to accept or deny. He knew now, that he was being forced to think about it, that the chances of himself finding someone, in this day and age, willing to accept him in that way was low, to say the least. The opportunity had come knocking, begging, and it was his choice. Take a chance and turn it away, or accept it? Life was full of things that needed acceptance now, and even though he wasn't entirely sold on the idea, he knew, judging by the hand that had weaseled its way back onto his crotch, that Ellis had already finished his part in the acceptance.

"Oh, Ellis..." Coach sighed, his solemn utterance a slight sign of his succumbing to the truth.

Ellis wasn't sure how to take his name being said like that. Had Coach given him permission, or was he so tired that he simply couldn't fight. He didn't want to outright force this on his friend, on the person he'd just called Keith. He kept his hand on the larger man's crotch, his fingers stiff and unmoving, and his thumb stroking his flaccid girth through his borrowed shorts. Ellis looked up at Coach, his eyes trying to read what to do in the older man's face. Coach looked at him for a moment, his eyes unflinching as he stared Ellis right in his eyes. Then, after a minute, he blinked slowly and rubbed his face. He kept his legs spread as he looked away, and Ellis knew then that he'd been given the go-ahead.

He could feel Coach shudder a bit as his hand rubbed harder over his soft flesh. He watched as the older man let his head hang back, like it had earlier in the night. Would have been deja vu had his hand been kneading his leg, rather than his cock. Ellis tried to go as slow as he could, but he couldn't hold back his excitement for long. Slowly, he hooked a pant leg with two fingers, and pulled it over cautiously, exposing Coach only after he helped in sitting up to give Ellis an easier pathway. He listened to Coach huff as he felt the air hit his sensitive skin. Ellis looked at his cock, at the dark color. It was how he expected it to be, as well as something completely new. It was dark, and thick, even though it was still soft. He soaked in the visual, and watched as Coach's scrotum tensed a bit in its exposure. It wrinkled up slightly, but even then his balls were shown to be more than full.

Ellis hadn't touched it full on yet, but the desire to was becoming relentless. He let his eyes look up at Coach again, who, like he felt them look at him, brought his head back to look down. He saw Ellis' clear eyes, and for a moment he saw his ex in him. That same hopeful look, young and wanting. He felt then that he was truly ready. Gently he placed his hand upon Ellis', which again rested on his thigh. His cock was out and he was ready to commence with whatever Ellis had in mind.

Even though he told himself he was ready, he was caught off guard when Ellis began to lick it. Soft, wet laps, like he were licking the beginnings of a popsicle. He licked at his cockhead, his tongue making sure to rub against the underside up to, and even in, the slit. Coach couldn't help but huff and puff at the new attention he was receiving. He wasn't yet hard, but he sure did feel the blood begin to circulate. He looked up at the ceiling for a second, then back down at Ellis, and watched as the hillbilly reached up to remove his baseball cap, and then take the tumescent prick fully into his mouth.

"Ummm, ummm... God Almighty..." Coach blubbered as he felt his dick being devoured. All tongue, no teeth, even his ex didn't get that right. What was once soft was now fully engorged, and then some. Hard as a rock, and leaking like a drippy faucet, Coach groaned and shifted on that creaky kitchen chair. He spread his legs wide, giving Ellis full access, and watched with one eye clenched shut. He watched as Ellis pulled back, letting the entire length escape his mouth, then swallow it again, his lips closing slow around the head, then all at once for the rest. It was rhythmic and soothing, the speed Ellis used. Coach could feel his balls boil. How long had it been since he had thought to jerk off? Too long, he knew, and now all that pent up testosterone was raging. He began to hump and grind his hips, jamming himself deeper into Ellis' throat with each thrust. He could hear the younger man choke a few times, but he found himself unfazed by the sounds. As far as he was concerned, Ellis'd asked for this, and dammit, he was going to get it.

Not long after Coach began to twirl his hips Ellis grabbed onto those full balls that, since they had started, seemed to increase in size. He rubbed them softly, at first. Then he cupped them into his palm, with his thumb pressing right between the hard orbs that were encased inside the warm, undulating flesh. "Oh, Lawd..." He heard Coach whimper, his voice low to not give themselves away. Ellis laughed internally, wondering if Coach had always been this close with The Father, or if it was just when he was getting head.

As he continued to feast on Coach, he began to wonder about more. He had time to decide, but not much, he figured. Coach appeared to be enjoying himself quite heavily,and every time Ellis took his girth to the hilt he could taste him burst a little more. He hadn't planned on it, but once it was in his mind, it was there to stay. Without warning he stood, snapping Coach out of his lust-driven stupor. He watched Coach watch him, then put his hand on his chest and pushed him back against the chair. "Ellis, what-" He heard Coach begin to question, but words were not needed. Instead of answering, Ellis straddled the larger man, and sat down slowly on his lap.

"This hurt?" Ellis asked, worried about the older man's knee.

"Are you sure?" Coach answered with his own question, not having noticed his knee since they'd started.

Ellis was sure, and although he'd never done it before, he knew it would work. He wouldn't have considered it had he not just washed a few hours ago. Even though he hadn't actually done it, he knew what he needed to do. He took his hand and spat a few times in it, then reached around to lube himself. No prepping needed beyond that point. Whatever happened, he could take it. And either way, he knew Coach wouldn't have a problem with it. He wrapped his fingers around Coach's fidgeting mass of flesh and vein, and positioned it. He felt as Coach put his hands on the back on his thighs, holding him up on his lap as he got ready. Coach looked anxiously up at Ellis, and Ellis kept his eyes on him as he lowered himself down. Immediately the pain began. Pain was hardly what it felt like. Agony was its name, and Ellis was groaning it deep in his throat as he took the head in, then inch after inch. The feeling was foreign, but now that he felt it it would forever be unmistakable. It burned a white hot. A sensation so initially torturous that Ellis was unable to control the contortions that it placed upon his face. He could feel Coach holding him tight, trying to prevent him from taking it further in. Ellis pushed through his wall of caution, though, and sat back more and more until his body was fully impaled. They sat there, motionless and silent. Ellis could hear his heart beating in his ears, and bit his bottom lip hard as he continued to ride out the flames. After a few minutes he began to lift himself, and then sit back. Coach's cock still felt like it was tearing through every muscle it could touch, but Ellis wasn't so easily defeated. He worked through the suffering, and eventually he discovered the trick. Though there was still some aching, if he pulled at himself the pain began to work for him. It was the mixture that worked so well, the pleasure with the pain. In a matter of seconds he wasn't gritting his teeth, as his mouth was open wide with silent groans of appreciation. Coach's cock was now sending waves of numbing bliss through his entire body. Every time it forced its way back in it would hit somewhere new, yet all the same.

Coach watched Ellis' jaw hanging open in approval as he rode him. Coach was worried at the beginning. He thought maybe he'd be to big, or that Ellis would admit defeat and resume the oral fun, but as he felt the whole of his girth enveloped in the warmth of his partner's body, he no longer worried. He told himself again, "He asked for it."

As Ellis began to quicken his hand, Coach began to shove harder, and deeper, and more often. He fought to keep up with Ellis' speed, fearing that maybe he'd beat him to the finish, but the more he fucked him the more he felt his days of neglect begin to catch up with him. His balls were screaming now, full to the brim and aching for release. He huffed, soft at first, then louder the hotter his cock became. Ellis was watching him intently, with his mouth hanging all open like a whore. And it was this association that pushed Coach over the edge. Ellis, a whore, his whore, for his cock. Then, with a deep, rumbling grumble, Coach came. Bullets of seed shot deep into the man on his lap, and Coach could only watch as Ellis watched him come undone.

With Coach still holding onto him, Ellis felt free to grab a hold of the larger man's shirt, balling the material in his fist as he pulled him close. He could feel Coach's cum spill inside of him, and the sounds that he made were so carnal that he couldn't help by find himself following suit. Ellis blew hard, his eyes clenched shut and his lip beginning to split as he bit down on it. Coach's cock hit that spot again, and Ellis couldn't help but blast harder and farther. His load had drenched Coach, globs dripping from his forehead down to his chin. Ellis puffed hot breath as his thirsts felt like they were finally being quenched. Coach looked at him as he rested back in the chair. Ellis had made a mess of things, but this time Coach was content with wallowing in it, at least for the time being. A heavy strain of cum pooled on the end of Coach's chin, and then fell free only to crash into the fabric on his chest. Ellis watched it, then smiled.

"Coach, Coach..." Ellis taunted, surprisingly spry and rejuvenated despite the recent events.

Coach stayed quiet as Ellis pulled himself off his still stiff dick. Both hissed at the feeling of it being removed, then sighed once it was out. Ellis grabbed the washcloth he had used on Coach's knee and cleaned up his mess, wiping the off-white liquid from his lover's face. Coach just closed his eyes and let him do it, his body now limp and exhausted in a way it had never been before. He was so tired, he might have to insist they stay another day, at least. They had the water, and enough food to allow it, so he didn't see why they had to leave right away. He felt Ellis rub his thumb on his lips, and opened his eyes to see the young man standing over him, with a grin on his face, and eyes that pierced right through him. He wondered if Ellis was going to try it, bend down and kiss him. Coach wasn't sure about it, but he figured he would try it, too, if he did. He looked up at him still, his heavy eyes struggling to continue seeing. Ellis just smiled down at him and rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip, soft and sweet. And, like that, Coach passed out.

Ellis watched Coach fall asleep. Had they really just done that? If Ellis wasn't sure, the pain still echoing in his ass, and the evidence that was beginning to seep free from inside his body, was enough to remind him. He hadn't acted in time with one friend, and he wasn't going to let another one slip through his fingers. Ellis gently placed Coach's pant leg back over his shrinking manhood, and found a blanket in a linen closet to drape over his sleeping frame. Tomorrow was another day in purgatory, but tonight was the reprieve that he, and Coach had needed. And, if for nothing else, these reprieves were the excuses they had to cling onto in order to keep on truckin'.


End file.
